


The Bruises Heal (But the Story Stays)

by musiquetta



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Journalism, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/F, Implied/Referenced Violence, Skinny!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:59:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2291132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiquetta/pseuds/musiquetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's a little bruise in the name of investigative journalism?</p><p>Carol has a habit of getting into trouble on the job, Jess worries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bruises Heal (But the Story Stays)

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing these two and that's a damn shame.
> 
> Thanks to Anna for the beta! :)

The camera hanging around her neck sways dangerously wide as Jessica bursts out of the elevator, drawing the eyes of every soul currently going about their chores at Stark Publishing. She's out of breath and had been since she started running from the photoshoot she had just finished when she got the call. Her eyes zero in on Carol's desk – and instead of finding it empty, there is blue bag of ice peeking out from behind the dull grey cubicle walls. 

“Carol!” Jessica yells and the bag of ice jerks, disappearing behind the partition. Jessica runs over, camera strap rubbing over her strained shoulder. When she steps into the cubicle, she finds Carol slumped down, nose buried in a book – hiding neither herself nor the giant bruise forming on her cheek, not even slightly. The bag of ice is shoddily shoved behind the mess of books and empty coffee cups – but she's okay, that's what's important. She's not hurt too badly, if she's upright and can still attempt a half-assed cover-up.

“Hey there, Jess.” Carol mumbles, muted by the book, and a substantial swelling of her cheek, probably. “Weren't you supposed to be in Long Island all day?”

Jessica groans and drops herself onto another office chair. Her camera hits the floor as she pushes the strap of her shoulder. She takes the first deep breath since getting the news. Clint had said she wasn't badly hurt but Clint-Barton-not-badly-hurt and not badly hurt are often very different things.

“I was but then my girlfriend got hurt – again.” The words come out unnaturally harsh, but Jess needs some slack here, because for all she dearly loves Carol, she isn't sure if Carol can spell 'self-preservation'. The word seems to be absent from her entire vocabulary. 

Carol has at least the decency to look sorry. 

“It's not that bad, honestly.” she slurs, wincing at the hard letters. And still she hides her face behind the book as if that bruise didn't reach up to her cheekbones and seriously impeded her speech. Jessica purses her lips. 

“Clint sent me the photo.”

“Damn him.” Carol curses and lets the book sink. It's Jessica's turn to wince now; the bruise is angry and purple and looks very much consistent with the story Clint's photo told. 

“Speaking of that photo,” Jessica says and fumbles for her phone. She unlocks the screen and shows Carol the picture; it's three quarters hairy knuckles and one quarters Carol's distorted face. “why does my ex-boyfriend take pictures of you getting beaten up, instead of, uhm, intervening?” 

Carol grins, as much as she's able to and reaches for Jessica's phone to get a better look at the picture that had momentarily stopped her heart. 

“That's going on my Christmas cards for this year.” she announces and Jessica groans, snatches the phone away to give Carol a stern look. 

“Okay, here's what really happened.” Carol says after a moment and reaches for the ice bag. It's dripping wet by now. She delicately dabs it against her cheek. “Clint was taking pics of the playground, I kinda got, uh, in his way. World's most painful photobomb.” she says with an awry smile, fumbling with the slippery ice bag. 

Jessica sighs and scoots forward on her chair. Their knees bump together and she leans forward to take the ice from Carol. She wipes off the water before gently cradling Carol's face with the cold bag. Her free hand tugs a strand of Carol's messy blonde hair strand behind her ear. 

“You're something else, you know that?” 

“Yes. But I'm sorry.”

“Sorry you're a badass?” Jessica quips. Carol grins and grabs Jessica's hand, entwining their fingers. 

“That, too.” Jessica chuckles and presses her lips onto Carol's knuckles. 

“So, apology accepted?”

“Apology accepted.” Jessica shakes her head and chuckles. “It's my fault, really. This morning I thought, with the story you're covering today, what could possibly go wrong? Leave it to you to pick a fight at a daycare facility. How did that happen anyway?”

“I don't know, I asked some questions, that manager guy got nervous and sicked his gorilla bodyguard on me. Who was very rude, by the way, which led to the name-calling and the punching.” Jessica stares at Carol, scrutinizing her. Her fingers are numb, she absently notices and sets the bag down to rub them.

“How do you – what kind of question do you have to ask a manager of a daycare facility to have him sick his bodyguard on you? Come to think of it, why does the manager of a daycare facility in Queens need a bodyguard?” Carol grins – it's hopelessly lopsided and only lasts a moment, before she flinches in pain. Jessica tuts and presses the ice against her cheek again.

“Now you're asking the right questions.” Carol says, tentatively grinning. 

The elevator doors open with a ding and Steve comes out, carrying that ridiculously large briefcase of his and a bunch of coffees. As always his shirts are too baggy on his lithe frame and Jessica has to fight the urge to help her boss. She did once and the stone-cold look she received for her troubles is still vivid in her mind. 

The bounce in his step suggests he's particularly happy about something, Jessica thinks. It's usually reserved for when an article in their paper offended particularly many rich white men in positions of power. Nothing makes Steve's day quite like the sentence 'You'll be hearing from my lawyer.', it seems. 

Steve skids to a halt in front of them, beaming at Carol and mumbles through a hasty greeting.

“Just wanna let you know, we're going after this guy, and so far all I can say is, I don't know how you did it, but this guy's so crooked and he's been flying under the radar for years. The police practically confirmed he fits the profile of some shadowy criminal ring leader they've been trying to pin down for years. We're exposing this guy and whatever shady ops he's been hiding behind that daycare.” 

Steve's so giddy, there's really no other word for it. Jessica is less excited; big stories like this always means wonders for their sales figures but it also means Carol will be at the center of attention. It's still days away, possibly weeks but Jessica already tastes the anxiety at the tip of her tongue. 

“You're welcome, Steve.” Carol grins and of course she's on board with that.

“Take the rest of the day off, tomorrow we have an article to plan.” And with that he whooshes past and into his office. 

Jessica is still dumbfoundedly staring after their boss, stupidly holding a bag of ice in mid-air, even after the door of Steve's office slams shut. 

“So the daycare manager was, what? A secret gangster? And you just managed to push his buttons enough for him to expose himself.” Jessica concludes. “I always thought your loud mouth was your secret superpower.” She hears Carol quietly snickering. 

“I can just hear your ego inflating.” She hisses. “You're going to be unbearable about this, aren't you?”

“Who cares what you think? Steve thinks I'm great.” 

Jessica groans.

“Steve is the only one around here who gets into even more fights than you.” 

“That's not an argument.” 

“Yes it is! It's not professional. You're journalists, not vigilante heroes. Also, it's dangerous.” 

“Aw, don't be jealous! I'll still love you, even if I'm a famous investigative journalist and the only thing you're taking pictures for is your instagram.” 

Jessica glares at her for a moment but the she laughs and presses a kiss to the not-swollen part of Carol's mouth. 

“Let's get out of here and figure out what sort of takeout you can process.” Jessica says and gathers her things from the floor. 

“By the way,” she asks when they're halfway from the elevator. “why are you wearing a shirt that says 'female body inspector'?” It had escaped Jessica's notice somehow, between the worry and the anger, but now it was there, and pervasive and she couldn't shake the feeling she'd seen it before. Carol tugs at the washed-out fabric.

“This? I'm trying out a new look.” Carol quips and Jessica scrunches up her nose.

“I am leaving you.” Carol laughs and presses the elevator button. “I kinda figured. My shirt is all, well, bloody and disgusting. This one belongs to Clint.”

“Thought it looked familiar. Let's get home and get you out of that.”

“Oooh, Jess,” Carol sing-songs as the elevator arrives and they step on. “you should be the one wearing this.” Jessica sighs.

“I'll admit I walked right into that one.” she says and presses the button for ground floor. They both lean against the back, shoulders bumping into each other, hands finding and grasping each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://cptcarol.tumblr.com/) for more writing. Send me a prompt for eternal love and free puppies.


End file.
